Where Should We Run
by SFninja39DragonStar
Summary: Inspired by Dazzlingem and Greekgirl211. when Grace finds a green book in the library, she invites the Cahill Family over for a read-aloud.
1. A green book

**I was inspired to write this from Dazzling Gem and Greekgirl211.**

"Dan!" Amy Cahill squeaked. She peered up at her five year-old brother, who was teaching himself to scale a library shelf.

"I'm 'kay!" he called down.

With a grunt of effort, he hoisted himself to the next level. More books fell down, adding to the pile as he ascended.

He suddenly stopped, and turned his head to look at his sister. "Um, how do I get down?"

Amy sighed. "I don't know!" she protested. "You climbed up there, can't you just climb down?"

Grace Cahill watched her great-grandchildren with a slight smile. "Dan," she said. "See that empty section by your foot? No, your other foot. Put one foot there."

Dan did as he was told. "Oh, I know now!" He slowly descended from the shelf, and jumped onto the floor when he was able to.

Amy rolled her eyes. She was already picking up books. Grace stood up and went over to help her. She lifted a pile of the hardcovers, and began to shift through them. "Let's see," she mumbled to herself. "This goes under J, and this goes under L..."

She peered at the last book in her stack. "Well that's weird... I don't remember this book." The cover was green, and Trojan helmets covered the front. She turned it over and read the synopsis. Whet she read made her gasp.

"Um, Amy? Can you and Dan find Saladin?"

Amy looked puzzled at the subject change, but she complied. "Come on, dweeb," she said.

When the two children left the room, Grace whipped out her cell-phone. She made a half-dozen calls, and sat back down to wait.

A few minutes later, the familiar sound of helicopter blades filled the air. Grace walked outside and watched as a black chopped landed on her helipad. Isabel Kabra strode out, followed by her two children.

Grace smiled curtly and held out a hand. "Welcome, Isabel."

Isabel smiled and grasped Grace's hand. "I hope you don't mind, I brought Ian and Natalie with me."

"I don't," Grace said. What if she trained them to spy on my home? "Just keep them near you."

A SUV careened into Grace's driveway, almost crashing into her garage door. A moment later, a unruffled Eisenhower Holt climbed out of the drivers seat. Mary-Todd followed shortly after, and their son, Hamilton guided his sisters.

"Hello Grace!" bellowed Eisenhower.

Grace only smiled. "If you would be so kind as to go to the Sitting Room,"

"Of course," sniffed Isabel. She strode into the house with her children right behind her.

"Come on, Holt's!" The whole family blundered into the house.

Grace sighed, and followed the group. She pushed her way to the front, ignoring Isabel, and led them to her Sitting Room. But no sooner had she sat down, than the doorbell was rang. To the tune of a popular rap song. Grace felt like banging her head into a refrigerator, but she walked down the hallway to let the Wizard's in.

"So good to see you, Grace," said Cora.

Broderick grunted, not even looking up from his Blackberry.

Two cars pulled in at the exact same time. they parked, and their drivers walked out.

"Hello!" greeted Alistair Oh cheerfully.

Behind them, Irina looked very annoyed.

"What did you call us here for?" she asked.

"You will see shortly," replied Grace. She led the five to the main group, where she noticed the absence of her grandchildren.

"Pardon me," she said, running off to find them.

When she returned the second time, she flopped down in a chair.

"Why have you gathered us?" Isabel was always straight to the point.

"I found a book."

"A book? You called us here for a book!" Eisenhower was confused.

"Look at it!" Grace held the book up for everyone to see. She then turned it over and read the synopsis.

**The Cahill family has a secret. For five hundred years, they have guarded the 39 Clues - thirty-nine ingredients in a serum that transforms whomever takes it into the most powerful person on earth. If the serum got into the wrong hands, the disaster would rock the world. So certain Cahills have always made it their mission to keep the serum safe, buried, locked away. Until now.**

**Thirteen-year-old Dan Cahill and his older sister, Amy, are the latest guardians of the Clues. They think they've done everything right, but a tiny mistake leads to catastrophe. The serum is missing and Dan and Amy have to get it back and stop who stole it . . . before it's game over. For everyone.**

When Grace was finished, everyone sat stunned. Finally, a small voice spoke up.

"Me?" Amy looked up at her grandmother in shock. "And Dan?"

"I think so..." Grace spoke hesitantly. "Why don't we read the first chapter?"

**Don't expect frequent updates... hope you r&r!**


	2. Where am I?

**Disclaimer: Dragonstar does not own the 39 Clues. If he did, he would publish more books.**

Isabel took the book from Grace's hands. "I think I'll read," she said, daring anyone to challenge her.

**It was a sunny, beautiful day. A day you felt glad to be alive.**

**Too bad Amy Cahill was surrounded by the dead.**

**Amy bowed her head and squeezed her eyes shut. She was only sixteen, but she'd attended too many funerals. She'd said too many good-byes.**

**Six months ago she'd buried her cousin and her uncle, and today, a marker would be placed for William James McIntyre, family attorney and deeply loved friend.**

"McIntyre's dead?" Grace gasped.

"Who killed him?" When all the eyes turned to Broderick, he said defensively, "When you are involved with the Cahill's, deaths usually aren't from natural causes!"

**Her cell phone chimed in her pocket. She slipped it out and read the text. It was from her boyfriend, Jake Rosenbloom. It was six hours later in Rome, where he lived. It would be close to dusk there, and he'd be putting away his books and starting to think about dinner.**

**I know the service is this morning. I wish I could be there with you. You ok?**

"Who is this Rosenbloom?" asked Irina. "Not a Cahill!"

Alistair thought for a moment. "I've heard that name before, I think."

Dan stuck his tongue out at his sister and made a gagging noise. All eyes turned to Amy, and she turned pale and hid behind Grace.

**Amy's finger was poised over the keyboard. Her gaze drifted down the grassy hill to where a polished gray marker stood gleaming next to weathered, tilting gravestones, the many generations of the Tolliver family who had lived in Attleboro since before the Revolutionary War. Too far away to read the name, but she didn't have to.**

**EVAN JOSEPH TOLLIVER**

"Another boyfriend?" Dan interrupted.

**She slipped her phone back in her pocket. Tears stung her eyes. She'd put on a black dress and gone to Evan's wake six months earlier. His mother had shut the door in her face. Amy had understood. After all, she blamed herself for Evan's death just as much as his mother did. If it weren't for Amy, Evan would still be alive. He would still be volunteering at the local shelter, still be president of the computer club, still be teasing his little sister, still be in line for hazelnut coffee with whipped cream. He would be alive on the earth, feeling the wind, appreciating the sky, every sense alert to this early spring day. Instead, he was in the ground. He had been her boyfriend and he had died for her. And he'd never known she was going to dump him for Jake.**

"Ugh," said Isabel. She paused her reading. "Who even likes Hazelnut coffee?"

**She'd never even had a date before crushing on Evan. She'd just been plain Amy Cahill, the straight-A student in jeans and sneakers. Unremarkable and overlooked. She wasn't the kind of girl boys noticed. Then she'd looked at Evan, and he'd looked back.**

**She'd thought she was in love. Until she met intense, charismatic Jake Rosenbloom, and realized that she hadn't had a clue what falling in love was really about.**

**If only she could remember the exhilaration she'd felt when she'd first realized that Jake loved her back. Now there was so much sorrow and guilt in her heart that she felt as though she was surrounded by fog.**

**She got up in the morning, brushed her teeth, and did her lesson plans. She and her brother, Dan, now were homeschooled by their former guardian, Nellie Gomez, and several tutors. It had been a rainy fall and a cold winter. The days had dissolved into grays. The books that had once given her comfort had blurred in front of her eyes. Italian lessons, history lessons, math problems, essays, projects.**

_Nellie Gomez, didn't she have that snake earring?_ Grace tried to recall that adventure.

**For the past six months, she'd barely left the house except to run long, hard, cross-country miles. At night she wandered the house, second-guessing every decision she'd made during the battle with the criminal organization the Vespers. When had she gone wrong? Should she have refused to let Evan help them? Should she have ordered Mr. McIntyre back to the US? So many people she had loved had died. She had the clout to force them out of harm's way, but she hadn't.**

"What power?" Hamilton was staring at Amy very intently.

**Why hadn't she used that power?**

"Tell us the power!" Eisenhower boomed.

**At sixteen years old, Amy was head of the Cahills, the most powerful family in the world. Their ancestor, Gideon Cahill, had formulated an extraordinary serum at the beginning of the sixteenth century. Since that time, the five branches of the family had battled, spied, lied, stolen, betrayed — all for one purpose only. Each of the branches had one part of the serum. If the complete serum was assembled, it would make anyone who took it the most powerful person in the world.**

Isabel put down the book, a slow smile creeping onto her face.

Grace was horrified. _Did that just say...five branches? But the Madrigals are secret!_

"A serum?" Alistair raised his eyebrows slightly.

Irina examined her fingers while Cora stared at her phone.

The Holt's just watched everything, trying to figure out what happened.

**After all those hundreds of years, Amy and Dan had been the first to put together the formula for the serum. But they and the other young members of the Cahill family had realized at last that the serum was too incredibly dangerous to even think about producing. Now the formula — a list of thirty-nine ingredients, their complicated calibration, and precise amounts — was safely locked away.**

**In the steel-trap brain of her thirteen-year-old brother.**

Everyone turned to look at Dan, and unlike Amy, he glared back.

**Amy's gaze drifted to her sandy-haired brother. Hard to believe that this skinny person now secretly slipping a worm into Aunt Beatrice's purse could be the most powerful kid in the world.**

The Holt's broke out in ear-shattering laughter.

**Protecting him — protecting all of the Cahills — was her job as head of the family.**

**_Guess I didn't do so well with you, Ma_****c, Amy said to the marble urn, her eyes filling with tears. ****_Murdered in a hotel room in Rome._**

"Told you so!" Broderick flashed a triumphant smirk across the room.

**She wiped her eyes. She had waited six months to bury the ashes of Mr. McIntyre. He was her last tie to security.**

**Mr. McIntyre had been more than her attorney; he'd been her best and most trusted adviser, and maybe her best friend.**

**Now here they stood, the only mourners except for Aunt Beatrice, who had started off the morning complaining that her hay fever was acting up and the funeral director had better "get this show on the road."**

_Where am I?_ Grace wondered_. Why are they with Beatrice?_

**The elegant marble box sat on a small table. It contained what was left of Mr. McIntyre. Just ashes. His kindness, his shrewdness, his intelligence — it was all gone from the world. Now there was just a box.**

**The funeral director, whom Dan kept referring to behind his back as "Mr. Death," had shown up late. He nervously wiped at the sweat on his forehead with a handkerchief. When he'd placed the marble box on the table, he'd almost dropped it.**

Jonah snickered.

**"Is this his first funeral?" Dan whispered.**

**The tall, muscular clergyman looked more like a football coach. He'd brought a bouquet of wilted red roses. Not Mr. McIntyre's style at all. Amy didn't know whether to laugh or cry. This whole thing just felt surreal. She almost expected Mr. McIntyre to drive up and get out of a long black limousine and say "April Fool."**

Grace nodded silently.

**"This is a disgrace," Aunt Beatrice muttered. "Only three people at the service!"**

**"Henry Smood is in the hospital with appendicitis," Amy said, referring to Mr. McIntyre's law partner and their new attorney. "He was really upset that he couldn't make it. And the hospital wouldn't release Fiske."**

Grace gasped. _Fiske? My baby brother? _

The others, however, didn't know who it was.

"Fiske?" Cora asked. "How does this Fiske know William?"

**Aunt Beatrice sniffed. "I was talking about family," she said. "It used to be when a faithful retainer was buried, the Cahills showed up. Even if we despise each other, we used to know how important appearances are."**

Everyone nodded solemnly.

**"Aunt Beatrice buried her retainer?" Dan whispered to Amy. "I just flushed mine down the toilet."**

Amy rolled her eyes. "Not that kind of retainer!"

**Amy stepped on his foot. Her brother made jokes when he was nervous, or scared. She was used to it, but Aunt Beatrice was not.**

**"Mr. McIntyre was family," Amy said.**

**"Dear," Aunt Beatrice replied, "only family is family."**

**Amy jerked her head away. Aunt Beatrice was tipping the ceremony from difficult to unbearable.**

Grace frowned. _Where am I?_

**"The Templeton Cahills always used McIntyre and Smood," Aunt Beatrice went on. "And the Durham Cahills. And surely the Starlings could have showed up! Denise Starling used McIntyre for years until she decided he was too close to Grace and sent him that poison pen letter. Even if it was real poison, she should have let bygones be bygones. And Debra used him for her prenup with that nasty man with the strange name. Never should have married him in the first place . . ."**

"Where are the Starlings?" asked Alistair.

When Grace shrugged, he pulled out his phone and called them.

**Aunt Beatrice droned on, naming Cahills Amy and Dan had never heard of. "They didn't come because I didn't invite them, Aunt Beatrice," Amy interrupted.**

**"But Mr. McIntyre was the family lawyer!" Aunt Beatrice sputtered. She narrowed her beady eyes at Amy. "Did you even tell anyone what you were doing?"**

**"No," Amy said. "I'm not interested in their opinions. I made the decision."**

**Aunt Beatrice opened her mouth, but Amy held up her hand. "And that's final."**

**Aunt Beatrice's mouth closed and opened like a fish feeding.**

**"Way to go," Dan muttered.**

**Amy gave a small smile. Sometimes it was difficult to be the head of the family, but when it came to Aunt Beatrice, she didn't have a problem.**

Isabel made note of that.

**"Are we ready to begin?" the funeral director whispered. Amy saw him sneak a glance at his watch before gazing down respectfully. She could almost picture him saying, "Dudes, let's get this show on the road."**

The Holt's hid the smiles that threatened to break out on their tanned faces.

**"The clergyman read a Bible verse in a wooden voice. Then he closed the book and nodded at Amy.**

**"Good-bye, Mr. McIntyre," Amy said. "You were our protector and our friend. The best of the best. Rest in peace."**

**"Good-bye, Mac," Dan said. "Sorry about the time I put a frog down your pants. Thanks for taking care of us."**

Ian blinked. "Why would you do that, Daniel?"

Natalie nodded. "You should have put poison down his pants."

Isabel didn't know whether to smile proudly or glare wickedly at her children.

**Aunt Beatrice sneezed.**

**The clergyman gestured at the pile of dirt by the open grave. "Would you like to throw a handful of dirt into the grave?" he asked.**

**"Oh, for heaven's sake. I have gardeners for that sort of thing," Aunt Beatrice said. "I have an allergist appointment."**

Grace rolled her eyes. She noticed Dan and Amy do the same, and smiled softly.

**Amy bent down and threw dirt into the grave. Dan did the same. The clergyman handed her the roses and she dropped those in, too. _Sorry, Mac_, she told him silently. _I know you'd prefer tulips._ A sudden memory came to her, of Mr. McIntyre in Grace's garden in his shirtsleeves on a fine May day, regarding a bed of yellow tulips, saying, Now there's a cheerful flower!"**

**Tears filled her eyes and she almost asked Aunt Beatrice for a tissue, but her aunt had already stalked off. Her driver was hurrying to open the car door.**

**Mr. Death had left, too — he was almost running as he made his way through the gravestones to his car.**

**_That's odd_, Amy thought. _Why did the funeral director leave so quickly? He didn't even say good-bye._**

**The clergyman leaned over to pick up the shovel. Amy didn't think she could bear seeing the grave filled up.**

**As she turned away, something hard hit the back of her head. Pain blinded her, and she felt herself shoved into the open grave.**

Everyone was silent for a moment.

"What just happened?" asked Dan.

"Yeah, we wanna know too!" shouted the Holt's.

Alistair rolled his eyes, and took the book from Isabel.


	3. Buried alive

"Is everyone ready?" When everyone nodded, he picked up on chapter two.

**Amy hit the ground on her hands and knees, feeling the shock shudder through her bones. She looked up. The light was blocked out as a heavy object came flying down at her. She moved by instinct rather than thought, rolling herself into a ball against the wall of the grave.**

**Dan landed with a cry. She heard his breath leave his body in a soft uh.**

**"HELP!" Amy shouted.**

**In answer, a shovelful of dirt rained down on her upturned face. She spat it out.**

**"Are you okay?" she asked her brother.**

**He nodded, his face white with pain and fear. His breath was short, and he dug into his pocket for his inhaler. Dan had asthma, and Amy could see the clouds of fine dirt hanging in the air, settling down to choke his airway.**

Grace's heart was accelerating, and she stole a glance around. Amy was pressed against a couch, with one hand on her grandmother's arm. Her touch was so light, Grace could barely feel it. Dan was staring at her, worry etched on his face. When Grace looked around the room, though, the other's reactions were sickening. The Holt's looked mildly interested, Broderick was texting into his phone, and Isabel's eyes were glinting.

**She shouted for help again, but all she saw was the glint of the shovel as more dirt rained down.**

**"He pushed me in," Dan said, choking and wheezing. "Deliberately . . ."**

**_This can't be happening!_**

**Panic shuddered through her. Her mind whirled. They had no enemies anymore. They had united the family, they had decimated a global criminal organization. They had gone back to being two kids living in a mansion that was too big for them, haunted by all the things they had done and seen. Their only enemies were memories.**

_United the family?_ Grace wondered. _Not even Madeline was able to do that!_

**So why was this happening again? The horror of it spooled out, making her brain operate on white noise. She couldn't seem to think, or breathe.**

**Amy was hit by another barrage of soil. Whoever was trying to bury them was working fast and methodically, not even bothering to peek over the edge.**

"Who's trying to bury them?" Cora Wizard was looking over Broderick's shoulder, reading his notes.

**_It doesn't matter who's doing it. You have to get out of here._**

**Amy could feel the dirt in her hair and down her collar and in her ears. She remembered the pile by the open grave. How long would it take before they were covered? How long would it take to suffocate, until the dirt filled her mouth and her ears and her eyes . . .**

**_It's fifth-grade math all over again_, she thought crazily. _If the man can scoop a shovelful every ten seconds, and the grave is six feet deep . . ._**

"200 hundred shovelfuls!" exclaimed three new voices. Eisenhower turned around as three little kids skipped into the room. Mrs. Starling entered the room after her children. "Sorry I'm late," she said. "What's happened so far?"

Alistair gave a brief summary of the first chapter. Grace used the time to serve drinks, and soon they were all ready to continue.

**"Amy!" Dan's pale face was suddenly sharp as the buzz of panic cleared. He placed an urgent hand on her sleeve. "We've got to get out of here!"**

**Her brain kicked in at last. Instinct clicked with experience; everything speeded up and she felt very clear. She looked around, assessing, planning. She measured the grave with a quick glance. Probably three square feet. The sides were steep. Amy tried to climb, but the dirt crumbled in her hands. She tried to jam in a toe, but she couldn't get up. Okay, next plan.**

**"Watch out!" Dan slammed into her, knocking her sideways as the marble box was tossed into the grave as well. It missed Amy's skull by a fraction of an inch and landed on Dan's foot. He let out a grunt of pain and bent over.**

**Now it was just the two of them and Mr. McIntyre's ashes.**

**Amy eyed the box. It wasn't just a box. It was a step. It was about a foot high, just what she needed. It was a chance. She'd only get one.**

**"Dan," Amy whispered. "Get on the urn. Hurry!"**

**"Dan knew what she wanted him to do without her even asking. He balanced on the box. He bent down slightly, making a cradle of his fingers.**

**Amy looked up, timing her move. One, two, three and she was up, hands on his shoulders; then, using the side of the grave to keep her steady, she balanced, crouching on his shoulders. She felt Dan's body shaking with her weight. He had to hold on, just hold on for three more seconds. She was counting on the machinelike efficiency of their attacker, the precision of his timing as he used the shovel. _Two, one . . ._**

**She straightened and jumped just as the glint of the shovel went over the lip of the grave. The metal edge glanced against her head — more pain, thank you very much — but she grabbed at it and yanked hard, then fell backward into the grave as Dan flattened himself against the side.**

**She crashed to her knees, stunned and bleeding — but she had the shovel.**

**A face appeared against the rectangle of blue sky. The man had ripped off the clergyman collar. He flashed a smile, his teeth white and even.**

**"Nice work, missy. You got your little toy. Going to dig yourself even deeper?"**

**"The face disappeared. They heard the sound of retreating footsteps. He would be back.**

**No time to hesitate, no time to press some cloth against the blood on her forehead, only time to wipe it out of her eyes. She jumped back on the marble box, grabbed the shovel by the long handle, and shoved it into the side of the grave, as hard as she could. The shovel fell out, the loose dirt unable to hold it. It had to go deeper.**

**"Help me, Dan!" He got behind her, and together, grasping the handle, they forced it tightly into the side of the earth. Dan held the shovel and nodded at her. His green eyes were bright against the dirt and blood mixed on his face.**

**"I've got you," he told her. "Go."**

**It had to be her, they both knew that. She was a rock climber, a scrambler, she knew how to find the tiny niches, how to plant her body against the wall and get up. She hoisted herself up on the shovel handle and dug her fingers into the earth, closing her eyes as she made a ledge for her fingertips. Dan yanked out the shovel and she hung there while he jammed it a foot higher. She heard him panting hard and fast. She tested the handle.**

"When did Amy learn to climb?"

**"Ready?"**

**"GO!" Dan grunted, and she used the handle to spring up, up to the top of the hole. Every muscle was straining, but she knew she could do it. Had to do it. Her hands smacked down over the edge. Her arm muscles quivered as she quickly scanned the cemetery. The man was now about fifty yards away. He was running toward the utility shed. Behind him another man emerged, holding a shovel.**

**Amy gathered every particle of strength she had and hauled herself over the edge. Her face hit the dirt. She had time to grab one breath — only one — before she found her feet.**

**Something made her attacker turn, some flicker at the corner of his eye, and he saw her. Both men spurted into a run. Straight at her.**

**She made a swift calculation. They were fast, much faster than she expected. There was no way she would have time to get Dan out. She had to lead them away.**

**She streaked down the hill. She felt the benefit of pushing herself through all those punishing runs. Dan had pointed out that they were safe now, she didn't have to be quite so . . . intense, but Amy had found solace in those dawn runs. Now they would help her.**

**She led them down a sloping hill, leaping over gravestones. All the while she was searching frantically for help, her gaze sweeping the cemetery for any sign of people. They wouldn't attack her if there were people around. She hoped.**

**She was almost at the Tolliver plot now. She had miscalculated. They were almost on top of her. How could they be so fast? She'd had such a big lead!**

"Are they Tomas?" Isabel turned and studied the Holts, who stared at her without blinking.

**Amy leaped over a crumbling old headstone, and she felt rather than heard the displacement of air as the shovel was raised. With a sudden swerve, she doubled back and saw the second man's look of surprise as she headed straight toward him with a classic spinning kick, right at his throat.**

**She connected hard.**

**_Why didn't he go down? He wasn't even winded._**

_Definitely Tomas,_ Isabel decided.

**He just spun away and lifted the shovel, and she ducked at the last minute. It crashed down on the polished granite behind her. The wooden handle snapped, but the steel end of the tool cracked the edge of the stone.**

**VAN JOSEPH TOLLIVER**

**The sight of Evan's desecrated stone gave her such a spurt of rage that she picked up the chunk of splintered rock and threw it at the man's head. Blood spurted from his mouth. He smiled. She had a confused impression of eyes the color of the gravestones, blood streaking perfect white teeth.**

**He raised the splintered end of the handle. She dropped down behind Evan's stone as the man charged. Evan would protect her, one last time.**

**The handle hit the stone and cracked, and she was off and running before he could grab it again. He was on her heels. She could hear his breathing. So close. She knew any second he would grab her hair, crash into her, and bring her down. . . . And now she saw the other one ahead of her, knees bent and ready, waiting for whatever direction she would choose to go. They would run her down, and for some reason that she would never know, they would kill her, and then they would go back for Dan.**

Grace shuddered.

**Suddenly, she saw a car turn into the cemetery road, a bright red Toyota. It was the best sight in the world. People.**

_Get out of there, _Grace urged. _Get to those people._

**Amy veered at the last second and started down the hill, leaping over gravestones, waving her arms, and shrieking, "HEY!"**

**The car pulled over. A youngish woman got out. Amy was confused when, instead of helping, she began to take pictures of Amy with a long-lensed camera.**

**"Another car pulled in. Now Amy was truly confused. Two men got out and began shooting her as well. _What was going on?_**

**Her attackers seemed to simply melt away. One moment they were right on her heels, and the next they were almost at a black car, walking quickly, like mourners eager to go home.**

**Amy turned and ran back toward McIntyre's grave. She lay flat and looked down at Dan.**

**"They're gone. Are you okay?"**

**Dan's face was a pale oval. She saw the strain around his mouth and knew how afraid he'd been that someone else would be returning. "Sure. I've been buried alive. Never better."**

**"Wait. I'll get a ladder." She hurried down the hill to the utility shed. To her relief, there was a ladder leaning against the side. She hoisted it and quickly returned to Dan. Amy slid the ladder into the hole and a second later her brother clambered up.**

**"Do I look as bad as you do?" Dan asked. "Because you look like a zombie. Which I guess makes sense considering we just climbed out of a grave . . ."**

Amy rolled her eyes. _Trust Dan to make a joke..._

**A bright yellow Jeep turned into the cemetery, going too fast. Amy grinned. There was only one person she knew who could be late for a funeral and then speed in a cemetery. Nellie.**

"Who is this Nellie?" asked Irina.

"I have no clue," shouted Eisenhower. The rest of his family joined him. "Yeah!"

Isabel groaned. "Let's continue, shall we?"

Cora took the book from Alistair. She opened it up and began a new chapter.


End file.
